Science has its limits
by Hannah Taylor1
Summary: Separated by oceans,Brennan and Booth face a new challenge that proves a catalyst in Brennan's evolution as a human being and their relationship. Angsty,post-season 5 finale.Definitely one-shot.I don't have the medical background to take this any farther.


**A/N: This was an extremely fast fic. It was born out of a scenario that popped into my head when I first woke up this morning. Just had to get this out of my system before continuing with "Problem Solving." **

**Maybe OOC. I'm not sure. I'd like to believe Brennan has evolved enough through her interactions with Booth and the team at the Jeffersonian to actually take this leap. Please R& R. I'd appreciate specific feedback on whether or not I really did Brennan's character a disservice.**

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Temperance Brennan frowned at the buzzing of her cellphone. She'd been attempting to ignore the insistent vibrations in her pocket at least until finishing the superficial analysis of one particular bone fragment. But, it seemed, the caller wouldn't wait. Sighing, she waved at her assistants to continue without her and stepped outside of the forensics tent into the Moluccan Islands' perpetual sunshine, blue sky and heavy cloak of humidity.

She moved down the path and into the shelter of the rainforest before snapping the phone open and raising an eyebrow at the unfamiliar number. Only a handful of people had her contact information on Banda Isle, where the scientific study had temporarily been moved due to heavy rains and flooding at the dig site.

The scientist injected a quantity of aggravation into her voice, intent on ensuring that the caller knew she was most unhappy at the interruption of her work.

"Brennan."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The earth wobbled metaphorically on its axis and Brennan felt compelled to sit down in the middle of the forest road, lest she pass out and disrupt the workings of the entire anthropological team. She reclined against a nutmeg tree and closed her eyes. The warm, sweet fragrance of nearby clove leaves filled her senses, adding to her overall temporo-spatial disorientation.

Rebecca was still talking, but only snippets of her words filtered into Brennan's consciousness.

_Wounded._

_Roadside IED._

_Medevaced to Germany._

_Surgery._

_I can't do this, Dr. Brennan. He's the father of my son and I love him, but not that way. These injuries will take years of rehabilitating … I have a life back in the States that I'm not just going to throw away. Parker needs stability. He's back home waiting. I can't pack up and move him overseas in the middle of the school year._

_Nightmares._

_Angry, depressed. Incapacitated._

_He's not calling out my name, Temperance. At night, behind those bandaged eyes, you're the face he's seeing._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"How long will you be gone?" Daisy Wick hovered in the door to her boss' sleeping quarters.

"Indefinitely," answered Brennan, throwing personal items haphazardly into a suitcase. Her methodical scientific aplomb was presently nonexistent.

"So that means what—a week?" Daisy pressed anxiously. "Three? Four, maybe? No more than six, surely."

"Indefinitely means indefinitely, Ms. Wick." Brennan dragged a second suitcase from beneath the bed. "Do you require a dictionary? It means an undefined period of time."

Daisy's hands waved in front of her like small flying insects. "You can't just leave!"

"I am handing over project responsibilities to you, Luella and Steve, with Annette appointed as the new manager." Brennan sifted through a dense pile of paperwork that had seemed all-important only a few hours ago. "You work well together. And the combination of your experiences and scientific credentials will ensure the continuity of careful research and analysis of the archaeological findings."

The tiny intern took the bold step of entering Brennan's private quarters—non-verbally declared off-limits to everybody from Day 1 of the project. The anthropologist was too busy throwing open cabinets and desk drawers to notice.

"Dr. Brennan," Daisy said firmly, planting her hands on her hips, "I'm aware that you're upset at Agent Booth's injuries. However, you can't just throw away everything we've accomplished here. Think of the repercussions to anthropology. To humanity. To your career!"

"Anthropology operates on a time space continuum just like everything else, Ms. Wicks. One incident of aberrant behavior on my part will not significantly change things. And if my reputation in the scientific world suffers, Cam will still rehire me. She knows my capabilities. Or, I can always fall back on my writing. As for humanity …" Brennan finally paused in her ransacking. Her eyes filled with tears and she didn't bother to wipe them away. "There's more to individuals than flesh and bone, Dr. Wick."

"I don't know what that means." Her assistant's words echoed Brennan's own frequent refrain.

"It means I should have learned of this when it occurred. 16 weeks ago. I should have been there when he arrived in Germany."

"If you weren't informed, how were you supposed to know?" Daisy asked reasonably.

"I should have been there," Brennan repeated, logic be damned for a change. "Just like you should have been when Sweets had his first book published and got all that negative publicity."

Daisy flinched in surprise at the sneak attack on her one emotional vulnerability. "Lance and I broke up when I took this position. You know that."

"That was a mistake. One you refuse to acknowledge." Brennan looked up from a journal she'd been scanning. Her eyes filled again as she contemplated the diminutive woman buzzing around the room distractedly. The world shifted on its axis again, and Temperance Brennan suddenly understood a little of what it was like to live inside Angela Montenegro's head.

She stood and approached her assistant, dropping a hand on her shoulder awkwardly. "Lance loved you. Loves you. No matter what he said at the airport, he's still back home waiting. You should have at least emailed him."

The little scientist almost lost her breakfast at the proximity with her scientific idol.

"You're making the same mistakes I did, Daisy," Brennan said gently. "Don't. Please."

Following her idol's earlier example to a T, Daisy deftly sidestepped the uncomfortably emotional line of conversation. "Much as I know you would like to help him, you don't have a medical degree. There's nothing you can do for Booth, anyway."

Brennan moved back to her packing. "I can help with Parker. Rebecca indicated that Booth's injuries, while no longer life threatening, will require extended care and rehabilitation. I can pay all the medical bills that will eventually arise from such treatment." She swept an armful of clothes off a hanger and into a duffel bag before looking back at Daisy.

If she'd been a different frame of mind, Wick might have labeled the anthropologist's steady blue gaze as strangely serene.

"And I can be there for him. With him. For as long as he needs me."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"_They won't even let you see him. You're not family!"_

Daisy's final protest drummed through Brennan's brain as the plane touched down in Germany. As she cleared customs—easy enough, given that she'd shipped all her belongings directly back to the States and asked Russ to deal with collecting them—and caught a taxi, the words nagged at her insistently.

By the time the cab pulled up in front of the hospital, a plan had formed in her genius brain. It was the only logical course of action, although 7 months ago the very thought would have been anathema to the scientist. For the first time, the purposes of a binding legal contract between two individuals made sense to Brennan, if only because, in the eyes of society, it afforded certain unique privileges to the partnership. Privileges she intended to take full advantage of by lying.

She asked the patiently waiting cab driver to make another stop before returning her to the hospital steps. Then she paid the man and swept into the hospital lobby, using every ounce of her formidable presence to leave people's jaws hanging. She'd been repeatedly told by Angela that she was "a hottie." This was certainly the moment to use such an asset to her advantage.

"My name is Temperance Brennan," she informed the shell-shocked admissions clerk in the lobby, indiscreetly waving the newly purchased diamond ring on her hand and leaning forward to expose copious amounts of cleavage. "I need to see my husband, Seeley Booth. He's here, receiving treatment."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Booth insisted on having her sit on his lap in the wheelchair, in spite of all the tubing and bandages. Like Rebecca said, the injuries were extensive, but no longer life threatening.

Brennan wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as tightly as she dared. Her tears soaked his hospital gown, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter if he saw her as a complete emotional rube, or that both arms were encased in plaster and couldn't embrace her. It didn't matter if his face was completely obscured by bandages and the architecture of his skull was clearly rearranged so he would likely be unrecognizable after healing was complete, and nowhere near as aesthetically pleasing as before. It didn't matter if the legs beneath her were prosthetic instead of human flesh. It didn't matter if, according to Rebecca he had severe mood swings resulting from the trauma to his brain, and was frequently angry and depressed.

He was breathing, talking, his heart still beating steadily in the cavity of his shattered, surgically-repaired chest. And she was with him again. That was the only thing of importance at this moment. That, and his words.

"So getting blown up is all it took to get you to finally marry me?"

His words in her ear were muffled by the bandages, but she smiled anyway.

"If I'd known that, I would've planted some stronger explosives in your fridge, Bones."

She laughed and cried and kissed the only corner of his lips she could see. And she told him that she loved him and would stick around indefinitely, as long as he required her presence. Her scientific mind saw the difficult years stretching ahead, with all its inherent challenges, and the woman within her embraced them with her partner, not-quite-yet-husband and best friend.

It didn't matter that she was likely going to become a fulltime caretaker, foregoing career aspirations to become a wife and stepmother. It didn't matter if the road ahead was far from flat or rosy. The bomb might have shattered him physically, mentally, emotionally, but that steady heartbeat in his chest told Brennan they'd make it.

"Forever, Bones." His voice was hoarse but familiar. At least that hadn't changed. "That's how long I need you with me."

"Yes," she said in response to his unasked question. "Yes, Booth. I'm with you for the next 30, 40 or 50 years. However long you need me. Yes. Yes. Yes."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**Post-narrative A/N:** **I'm friends with a number of military veterans, and there's no sugar coating the pain they suffer from traumatic injuries inflicted by the likes of IEDs, among other things. While there was zero disrespect intended by this purely conjectural fanfic, I'm fully aware many soldiers returning from the battlefield don't have happy endings. The rising suicide rate attests to that fact. In the interest of full disclosure, my own relationship with a badly injured military vet (a good man both before and after the injury) didn't survive his resulting rage and physical aggression. So I know how tough it is.**

**Plenty of marriages don't make it. Yet I've also seen several couples where, in spite of everything changed between them, the love somehow remains strong even in its altered state. I'd like to believe the same could be said for Booth and Brennan.**


End file.
